Sacrifice
by Atlantia
Summary: Tommy thought he knew where his life was headed, but when the wolf starts showing him a different future that he doesn't think is right he has to make a choice. Written for the Yuletide '08 Challenge. TxM One shot for now.


Written for the Yuletide Challenge '08.

Sacrifice

For the wolf, the world was all about smell. It defined friend from foe, good from bad, and right from wrong.

To his enhanced senses it was almost a conscious entity that swirled through the air around him, carrying bits and pieces of information that brought the world to life in ways he never would have imagined before he'd been bitten. It tantalised him with hints of events past and present, teasing gently with every slight movement. It whispered that the girl sitting across from him had waxed her legs this morning, the faint hint of its scent still lingering on her skin. It murmured about the boy sitting next to her and his desperate crush that had him sweating in terror at their proximity. And it hummed with the understanding that somewhere on the other side of campus, the cafeteria staff had just burnt one of the pizzas for lunch.

It was an incredible gift to have, and it still overwhelmed him at times with the depth and intensity. It gave the world another dimension that he hadn't even realised it lacked until that fateful day. Not the day he'd been bitten, though that had certainly been a day to remember, but the day he'd stopped fighting the fact that he was going to be a werewolf for the rest of his life and accepted that the wolf could be more than just a curse. It let him look beyond the surface at what was lurking underneath, showed him the hidden motives and meanings that made the world turn. It had given him a life, a purpose, and allowed him to see the friends who wanted more than just to be in the right clique.

It had shown him Merton.

Merton, whose scent had been one of the first he'd identified, on the surface nothing but the scent of hair spray and deodorant, but as the wolf had shown him, beneath the various chemical cocktails, the faint hint of clean skin and old books, of the mustiness of the lair and safety of home.

The smell had irritated him at first, all those products wafting their false odours around him whenever they were together, but as they'd become closer, faced death together and fought for each other, the smell that identified Merton had been around him so often that it almost seemed to become simply another part of himself. In the end he couldn't put on a shirt without catching a faint hint of the other boy, and by the time they'd reached their last year of school they'd blended so much that the scent of Tommy became indistinguishable from the scent of Tommy and Merton.

It had just been another quirk of the wolf senses at first, he was still adjusting then, hell even now he was still adjusting, and he hadn't realised the significance of it at the time. Hadn't realised how much they were together, how much he took in about the pale teen that he simply didn't notice in anyone else. Even Lori, who he had spent almost as much time with towards the end of their school days had not been so clearly defined in his mind.

The wolf had shown him Merton.

And then it had taken him away.

Not in the sense that he'd harmed the other teen in any way, he didn't think the wolf was capable of that, but it had taken him away nonetheless.

Like everyone else in their year, they'd spent the better part of the last few months at Pleasantville High planning which colleges they'd be attending, what classes they'd be taking and generally what they planned to do with themselves now that they were free of the societal shackles of high school. They'd both discussed the fact that they'd probably be heading in different directions, Merton to a liberal arts college where he could take his interests to the next level, and Tommy to a University that offered a chance to pursue his football career.

With the day itself still months off, they'd both accepted that fact without batting an eyelid, more concerned with beating the next big bad that moved into town and navigating the murky waters of final exams. But when it finally actually came, and he'd been sitting at his desk with the myriad application forms spread out over every available surface, he'd found his hackles rising and a slow growl tickling the back of his throat.

The outburst had taken him completely by surprise, not only because the full moon was weeks away and the wolf was usually fairly weak then, but also because absolutely nothing had set it off. He'd been looking at the form for NYU, one of his top five choices, when he'd just suddenly snapped. He'd been about to sign the bottom and add it to the completed pile, along with a couple of local Colleges, when abruptly he'd stopped, hand clutching the pen, frozen in mid air, his stomach twisting as though he was about to be physically ill. Somewhere he'd felt the wolf snarl, a warning sound from the back of his mind that spewed from his lips without his control, and he'd dropped the pen as though it were made of silver, staring at his reflection in the mirror over the desk and watching yellow eyes glow back at him.

The meaning was clear.

The wolf was a being of emotion and instinct, it had no understanding of speech or consciousness, but there was no doubt that it could convey what it wanted without them. Even looking at the paper brought swirling mental images of sickness, unhappiness and solitude, all swamped by the greater sensation that could only be described as distance, and time. The wolf didn't want him to go to NYU, fought against it so strongly that he had to restrain himself from picking up the paperwork and tearing it into tiny pieces with suddenly sharp nails.

Cautiously he'd pushed the paper aside, to the farthest edge of the desk that he could reach, releasing a small sigh as he felt the wolf relax and settle back into his subconscious. He'd thought it was over, a primitive reaction to the possibility of being stuck in a large city with no escape, but when he tried with another, Notre Dame this time, only to have the same infuriating loss of control overwhelm him, the paper had ended up as a mangled ball in the bottom of his waste paper basket.

When applications to a further seven out of state Colleges had ended up the same way the joke had started to wear a little thin.

The worst thing was the unexplainable anger, the emotion surging like a neap tide that he couldn't seem to stop, and so he'd raged at himself in the privacy of his room, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, staring at the pen and papers as though it was somehow their fault that he couldn't sign his own name. It was ridiculous that the wolf could be so upset about something like this, it didn't even understand what college was, it made no sense that it would be so upset about leaving Pleasantville.

The wolf had never before been territorial, he'd gone on holidays without a problem, crossed state lines without gouging someone's eyes out. He'd even chased some irritating water fairies all the way to Niagara Falls last year with Merton.

Merton.

Tommy had no idea why it would happen now, but he knew that Merton would.

And like the eye of a hurricane passing overhead, within a split second the wolf had gone silent, the formerly angry presence disappearing and turning into a sensation that could only be described as an excited puppy, calm and content but full of eagerness and the urge to play.

The wolf wanted to see Merton.

He'd stopped with his hand stuck to the door knob, mind slowly kicking into gear at the change in atmosphere. He'd never really noticed before that Merton had the ability to calm the wolf in him when bad things had happened. When he and Lori had finally called it quits his first stop had been Merton's, when he'd broken up with Jennifer only weeks before, his first stop had been Merton's, and when he felt like company or just getting away from home or school, his first stop was always Merton's. With a start he noticed that his room even somehow smelt of Merton, a concentration strong enough that he knew only the lair could possibly smell more of the other boy. It seemed to coil around him even from his own jacket, and he'd felt the inexplicable urge to roll over and expose his throat.

He'd almost choked on his own tongue.

The wolf didn't want to _see_ Merton.

The wolf _wanted_ Merton.

The reality of it had smashed into him with more force than a tackle in a championship game, feelings of contentment and satisfaction mixed forever into the scent that was only Merton, a scent that the wolf linked with companionship, with the promise of cold nights spent sharing warmth, and of battles fought side by side.

Of mate.

It didn't want to leave the spiky haired boy it had somehow attached itself to. Didn't want to leave and be without that scent that seemed to invigorate him with every breath.

The wolf wanted _Merton_.

Except Tommy really didn't, at least he didn't think he did, and certainly not in that way. Tommy wanted Merton around for company, to have as a friend, to know things about obscure facts and movies that Tommy couldn't or didn't want to understand. Tommy was still attracted to Lori, still getting over Jennifer, was still turned on by the cheerleading squad.

He didn't want to suddenly look at Merton and wonder what the wolf was seeing in him, didn't want to sit through a movie marathon and question why he was allowing the dark haired head to lean against him, and he certainly didn't want to have to ask himself where the wolf ended and himself began.

He couldn't give it what it wanted. He _didn't_ see Merton that way, and he certainly _didn't _want to ask himself exactly why everything he owned literally reeked of the goth, the scent clinging to him like a wet t-shirt.

He'd had no choice but to leave.

And the wolf had not gone quietly.

For the next couple of weeks he'd spent every spare minute he had trying to think of a way to escape from Merton. Not just regular 'I need a weekend away' type escape, not even just leaving Pleasantville to travel two towns over, that was easy enough, but he had to find a way to discourage Merton from visiting, and to make it impractical for him to visit in return. He had to disappear.

At the back of his mind the wolf had snarled and growled, rebelling against what he was trying to do, trying to stop him from leaving the one who smelled of mate. Outwardly he'd snapped and barked at everyone, unable to stop the wolf's emotions from spilling over into his own state of mind, not liking the way the mental struggle was blurring the line between where Tommy ended and 'not Tommy' began. He'd had to take out his frustration somehow, and his team, his brother, his parents, even Lori, they'd all copped the sharp end of his foul mood until most of the time they could barely stand to be in the same room as him. But as soon as the smell of old books, hairspray and musty basement had hit his nostrils, the world just seemed to lift right off his shoulders and the desire to have his head scratched had been almost unbearable.

It was truly a terrifying experience to have thoughts and impulses that not only weren't under his control, but sometimes weren't even human. He'd tried to snap at Merton, tried to distance himself in preparation for what was coming, but every time he went to open his mouth and say something mean, something nasty or rude, he'd felt the wolf rouse in defiance and he'd turned as docile and playful as a house trained dog.

It only confirmed what he already knew. The wolf was getting stronger. And one day soon, if he didn't leave, he wouldn't be able to stop it from doing something to Merton that he'd never be able to fix.

And so the plan had gradually come to him, piecing itself together as insidiously as Merton's scent had apparently wormed its way into the wolf, and he'd found his answer in a small town not unlike Pleasantville, far enough away that driving or taking the train were out of the question, and not on any major flight path, meaning that to go by air involved not one, but two, hour long layovers while changing planes.

It was as safe as he could possibly make things without leaving the country.

Branley University had been more than eager to send him an application form; once they'd seen his football results they'd practically offered to fly him there at their expense just to check out the campus. To have someone with his skills was the dream of any small local college, and with the wolf boosting his performance the last few years at school he'd always been just a little faster, a little quicker and a little stronger than everyone else.

The papers had arrived by express post the next day, and the wolf had not been happy.

Howling like a rabid beast it had wrestled against his control as he'd reached out to pick up the pen, and by the time his fingers closed around the cool cylinder his hands had been shaking as though he was suffering withdrawal from some designer drug. He'd forced himself onwards though; each question answered a minor victory over himself that gave him the strength to go on. By the end he'd been focusing so hard on the little line marked 'sign here' that he'd half expected the page would burst into flame, but when pen and paper had touched it was the rabid snarls that somehow grated out of his throat that almost undid him, not an imaginary flame.

The sound had been so raw, so uncontrolled and so full of desperation and pain that he'd almost wanted to just give in and give the wolf what it wanted. To look up and see the reflection of his face filled with grief and hurt it had almost been like he was doing it to himself rather than some creature that was now part of him. He knew he had to fight it though, had to stop the two of them slipping further into each other than they already were, not only for his sanity, but for Merton as well. The pale boy was probably his best friend in the world, and had fought at his side and helped him out of a hundred jams. To allow the wolf to subject him to any injury, emotional or otherwise, would be a betrayal of the worst sort.

When he'd finally dotted the 'i' in Dawkins he'd actually gasped in relief and almost hurled the pen through the window beside him, but the snarls had kept coming, claws lengthening as he reached for the envelope, fangs cutting sharply into his lip. He'd dug deep into himself though, and Tommy was nothing if not determined, so when the letter had slipped from twitching fingers into the mailbox he almost wept when the wolf stopped struggling, and with a whimper, backed down.

He'd barely heard a peep from it after that, at least no more than a constant drone of howls and mewling that was now always present at the back of his mind. He'd packed up and left straight after graduation, telling his parents he was eager to get started and settled in with time to spare.

They'd believed him.

And when he'd suggested to Lori and Merton that it had been his parent's idea, they'd believed him too.

But the wolf was not so easily dismissed.

Since leaving Pleasantville behind it had worn away at him like a restless pet locked outside the back door, scratching and pawing at his mind until he couldn't even sleep with the constant pressure it put on him. The need was so much a part of his life from that day on that he'd practically forgotten what it felt like to _not _want Merton around, not want to call him or email him just to know he was alright and happy.

The morning he'd gone to get dressed and realised that there was no longer a trace of Merton's smell on his clothes the wolf had howled so strongly he'd been forced to flee to the woods just so he could let it out, returning hours later with a throat that could barely manage single words, let alone his oral assignment. And it wasn't just his grades that were suffering. With limited sleep and the wolf uncooperative at best, his football performance had slipped markedly, the same coaches that had once held him up as an example to the team now telling him to quit sliding by on his reputation and get his head back in the game.

If it hadn't been for Merton's constant attempts to keep in contact he thought he probably would have gone insane within weeks of arriving. Every email that came through, every phonecall that was made was a few blessed moments where the wolf was focused elsewhere, whining in ecstasy simply to hear the excited voice coming out of the tinny mobile speaker. They were a small mercy he was inordinately grateful for, though as the mental assault slowly resumed after every contact he was almost brought to tears to once again remember what it felt like to be whole and at peace.

A phonecall or an email wouldn't satiate the wolf.

For the wolf, the world was all about smell. Everything centred around it, was touched by it and lived within it

And it had been too long without it.

Which is why, sitting in the courtyard of the Foster Building with his two closest friends on a warm morning, he almost died when the faint scent of old books and the lair drifted teasingly past him.

He couldn't stop himself from drawing in a lungful of air, desperate to know that he wasn't imagining things, that it hadn't just been a fluke convergence of odours that had combined to bring tears to his eyes.

He'd felt the wolf perk up like a dog waiting at the front door for its owner to return home, ears pricking forward and hackles rising, senses working overtime to make sure nothing was missed. His hands tightened on the edge of the table, feeling timber splinter and shred under nails suddenly grown longer and sharper, while like lasers, his eyes swept the courtyard in front of him, desperately searching for a hint of spiky black hair.

"What do you think Tom?" Like a voice whispering from a great distance he heard the words that were spoken, but couldn't put reason or understanding to any of them. All he knew was that they didn't relate to his mate and were subsequently not important. He could still recognise that it was Amanda speaking, was conscious of her uncrossing and then recrossing her freshly waxed legs underneath the table, nose detecting the increase of pheromones coming from Michael seated next to her at the action, but caring only that they interfered with tracking the scent of Merton.

"Hn?" It was all he could manage in his current state. Even if he hadn't been so distracted the arrival of that smell meant that the start of their conversation had long been lost to his memory. The intensity surged and he felt the wolf surging with it, a strength born of desperation and long denial. It had been withheld from that scent for far too long, that voice, that touch, and in spite of himself, at that moment Tommy wanted nothing more that to feel long pale fingers gently brushing through his hair as soft lips whispered anything in his ear.

A whine slipped out before he could stop it and he felt himself losing control. He knew he had to get out of there before anyone noticed that something was up, had to get away from that scent before the wolf did something foolish, but he was locked into his seat, afraid to stand up lest Merton be unable to find him once he moved on.

"Tommy?" It was the voice that finally did it. Like an explosion his senses burst to full wolf strength, the smell crystallising around him until all that existed was that voice speaking his name and that scent permeating the very air around him.

"Can we help you?" Amanda again, two sets of eyes directed over his shoulders, but he was already turning slowly around, fingers pulled almost painfully out of the grain of the table wood, his whole world centred on the boy standing in front of him.

"Merton..." It was a strangled sound, halfway between a moan and a whimper but the other teen dressed in his typical all black seemed to have heard him. He felt as the wolf momentarily asserted itself, knew his eyes were glowing yellow, felt fangs pressing against the inside of his mouth, and couldn't stop himself from leaping up and crushing the goth against him until it almost seemed as though he was trying to merge the two of them into one. Regardless of what the wolf wanted and what Tommy wanted, he had never needed anything more than he needed to just hold the slim body at that moment.

"Tommy. What...?" Hesitant arms gently touched his back, and the smell of mate was suddenly everywhere, soaking into every pore. It seemed as though a great weight had instantly been lifted off his shoulders and he could breathe easily for the first time since he'd arrived in the small town. He wanted to cry with the relief, with the rememberance of what normal felt like, what it felt like to just be Tommy. He couldn't answer Merton's hesitant question, only able to nuzzle helplessly at the pale curve of throat, baring his own to his mate in return though knowing that the other boy wouldn't understand.

"Um, Tom?" It was Michael this time, a voice that suddenly seemed empty and unimportant compared to the vibrancy that surrounded Merton, but some part, a very small part, remembered that this was not the wisest course of action and he found the strength to slowly straighten until he felt his lips resting gently against the soft shell of the other teen's ear.

"Please get me out of here." It was barely audible to his own wolf hearing, still sounding more like a pitiful whine than human speech, but years of dealing with the wolf together seemed to have finetuned Merton to his moods and needs.

Without a word he felt a slim arm slide around his waist, turning them until they were facing the buildings that were clearly dormitories, and then he was being ushered away from the table, resting more weight on the black clothed form beside him than on his own two legs. He vaguely realised that he was waving a hand back at the two puzzled forms at the table, indicating that they shouldn't follow, but every other shred of brain that he had available was focused on the boy at his side, soaking in Merton until he couldn't remember why they'd ever been apart.

Neither of them said anything until they reached the quad between the four dorms, and even then it was limited to one word sentences indicating which way to go, until eventually they stood inside the curtained darkness that was Tommy's room and reality started to settle once more onto his thoughts.

"Tommy?" He knew Merton must have a million questions, must want to know what had him in such a state, but he didn't want to answer those questions yet, or face what the answers might be, for either of them. He wasn't sure he could handle the rejection. He wasn't even sure he could handle acceptance. Instead he gently moved them toward the bed, not stopping to consider exactly how it would look, and lowered them both down onto the cool comforter, resting his head on one slightly bony shoulder as his hand fisted in the dark shirt.

"Please don't ask me yet." It was another whisper, though at least this time he didn't sound like a dog left out in the rain. He didn't offer any further explanation and for once Merton didn't seem to need any, just letting out a soft sigh that only served to stir the scent of the two of them even more.

"Ok." Long fingers tangled softly in his hair, sliding deftly through the strands over and over until he felt the first shudder travel through his body and the first tear slip free from closed eyes. He tried to remind himself of all the reasons he'd left Pleasantville, all the justifications he'd used to escape from Merton and leave him behind, but for some reason they had all abandoned him. It felt right to be there like that, with the wolf satiated and growling with pleasure and the slightly cool body resting beside him.

He envied the wolf within, unburdened by conscious thought, running purely on instinct, instincts that told it that it wanted the other boy. That they fit together.

"I'm so sorry." And he was. More than anything else it was sorrow that filled him. Whether he was apologising to the wolf or to Merton he wasn't exactly sure. Sorry for keeping you from what you needed, sorry for forcing this on you. Both were valid.

"I really did fight it." That was solely for the other boy, a feeble excuse but one nonetheless. He could have fought harder, could have done more, could have tried to stop the wolf from becoming so much a part of him. Instead he'd accepted the curse, stopped trying to find a cure. Given part of himself over.

"Fight what?" And that was the question wasn't it. What _was_ he fighting? A part of himself, or something else entirely, that just happened to live inside him. But that wasn't what Merton was asking, and he was tired of lying.

"This." He pressed his face against the soft skin of the goth's neck, hearing and feeling the blood pumping frantically underneath the paleness.

"That's not very helpful Tommy. What 'this'?" The words were puzzled, the voice hesitant and unsure.

"Mate." The whisper was almost a growl, somehow full of both fear and possession, but there were no misgivings as his tongue slowly slid out and gently laved the pulsing skin where neck met shoulders. A faint shiver travelled the length of his body as the first taste of the pale skin slowly registered with seemingly every cell in his being.

"What?" Delicate fingers froze, the word a breathy gust, full of surprise and perhaps a little panic, and Tommy couldn't help lifting up slightly until glowing gold met frightened blue.

"I tried everything Mert, I really did." His voice was calm now, as though by simply acknowledging that the wolf was there had freed him from its hold.

"But the wolf wouldn't stop seeking you. Day after day it hounded me, burning through me until even sleep became difficult. You don't know what it's like Mert, to have this other being with feelings and emotions feeding on you." His voice was a whisper again by the end and he wiped at the fresh tears that marked a course down his face, head falling slowly back to rest against the other teen's shoulder once more, waiting for the shove that would send him crashing to the floor.

"You can't tell what's it and what's you, what it feels and what you feel. It's like a pressure that won't release until you give in or go insane." There was a pregnant silence, not even broken by the sounds of breathing, and then pale fingers resumed their gentle strokes.

"Well what do you want Tommy?" The question hung like a dagger in the cool air, tempting him to pluck it up and stab himself through the heart with it. 'What do you want?'

What did he want? He knew he'd been sure once, certain beyond any shadow of a doubt. But after weeks of listening to the wolf whimper at the back of his head, of feeling an ache every time he breathed in and didn't smell the other boy, he wasn't so sure any more that what the wolf wanted and what he wanted were really two different things.

"I want to stay with you." It was a half truth, not quite saying everything, but saying more than a friend probably should.

"I don't want to be separated anymore." That was closer, and he could almost feel the presence of the wolf fading, becoming less wolf and more Tommy with every word.

"We aren't meant to be apart." And there it was, not quite all the way there, but close enough that no one could possibly misunderstand exactly what he'd meant.

"It doesn't smell right." He expected a laugh at that comment, certain that Merton couldn't understand exactly how important scent could possibly be. But the hand running through his hair only momentarily tightened, as though pressing his head into the slim shoulder beneath it, and then gentle lips pressed against the top of his head.

"Then I'll stay." There was no hesitation in the voice, no uncertainty or doubt, and Tommy could have wept with relief because of it. In a fit of instinct he gently turned his head to the side and pressed a soft kiss to the white expanse of throat, feeling the other boy shiver as fangs delicately scraped across the pulsing arteries.

"Thank you." He didn't need to say exactly how grateful he was, knew that Merton could understand without words. Instead he just settled a little closer, letting out a jagged breath he hadn't realised he was holding as his hand relaxed its grip on the black fabric and slid slowly underneath to rest against pale, smooth skin. He felt Merton gently toe off his shoes, the two thuds against the carpet the loudest sounds in the room, and then he was softly drifting off to sleep.

As his eyes slid closed he drew in one last, long breath and smiled, as the scent of Tommy mixed with the boy beside him to once again become Tommy and Merton.

Because for the wolf, the world was all about smell.

And Tommy was a wolf.

FIN~


End file.
